


Intensify

by auricale



Series: Research Institute AU [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Canon Autistic Character, F/M, Feelings, Fluff, Formalwear, Gen, Kissing, Making Out, Research Institute AU, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 06:24:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8700913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auricale/pseuds/auricale
Summary: Satya Vaswani has worked for the Overwatch: Research Institute for four years, developing a comfortable routine and an easy repertoire with her peculiar coworkers. That is, all but her work partner, Hanzo Shimada. They work excellently together, but there's something Satya can't quite put her finger on about their relationship.
At the institute’s annual gala, an event for donators and shareholders to mingle with the scientists of Overwatch, Satya discovers what that something is.





	

**Author's Note:**

> warning: a bit of sensory overload description and anxious thoughts, jsyk!

Satya traced the rim of her champagne glass with her prosthetic finger, a light ringing resulting from the contact. Her head was thrumming uncomfortably as she stood on the outskirts of the large atrium where the annual Overwatch: Research Institute Gala was being held. It was noisy and bright, and she had caught herself becoming overwhelmed not too long into the event while talking with Angela. Satya had excused herself from a conversation about the wonders of nanites and made her way towards a quiet corner.

Angela had understood, giving Satya a compassionate smile before returning to her conversation with several gala guests.

Mei had come to stand beside Satya not too long after, inquiring if Satya was alright; her eyes holding genuine worry behind her glasses. Satya took a moment to appreciate the way the soft blue of Mei’s qipao complemented the pink flush that seemed to perpetually color her cheeks and nose, before nodding simply in reply.

The Kalamkari style saree Satya wore was a few shades of blue darker than Mei’s dress, but Satya wondered if she should have gone with the deep red, simpler saree she kept for less extravagant parties. It had small round beads that she found soothing to run through her fingers, good for distracting her mind.

Satya often wore sarees to formal functions — her own preference, as there was an innate comfort for her in being wrapped in the beautiful weaves of silk or cotton —, but it had been by request of the Overwatch chiefs that her coworkers were dressed in formal wear that reflected their heritage. It was startling to see visually how culturally different they all were, but it shouldn’t have been much of a surprise; they had all been handpicked from across the world for their unique aptitudes.

Satya struggled to keep her voice from betraying her distress, not wanting to make Mei worry. “I just always forget how… loud these events can get,” she explained.

Mei hummed into her glass of champagne before she spoke again, “I’m glad I’m not the only one who finds these parties to be a bit much sometimes.”

Satya smiled at the other woman, feeling a bit lighter with Mei’s admission. “I’m glad as well.”

“Are you still waiting to hear back on that partnership with the company from Italy?” Mei asked, as Satya’s watched the elder Amari, Ana, and Mr. Reyes in the midst of the crowd, chatting to several well-dressed people Satya hadn’t seen before.

It wasn’t often that Satya spotted someone at the gala that she hadn’t had a conversation with, nonetheless never seen. During her — albeit short in comparison to some of her coworkers — time as an Overwatch representative, she had likely brokered deals with more than half of the people in the atrium, and met with the remainder for grant and donation discussions.

Satya realized she hadn’t answered Mei’s question, and hastily responded, “Yes, I should receive word from their Chair Head by the end of this week.” She worried that Mei would think her uninterested due to her short answer after such a prolonged pause, but Mei didn’t seem to mind, smiling as she looked out at the crowd.

Mei kept up an easy conversation with Satya, before they their attention was caught by the woman striding towards them, dressed in a well-fitted red jacket with thick strips of gold-weaved fasteners across the chest and flaunting a head of neatly coiffed neon pink hair.

Satya knew the woman was a new recruit to Overwatch, but she couldn’t remember her name.

“Hello, Zarya,” Mei said, waving shyly.

Ah, yes, Aleksandra Zaryanova had insisted on being called _Zarya_ of all things (something that confused Satya to a degree she found nearly headache inducing). Zarya was the Head of Overwatch’s newly acquired Artificial Musculature department — which had been developed to work hand-in-hand with their Prostheses department.

Satya was relieved that Mei seemed familiar with Zarya, though she struggled to recall how the two would have met, being in non-interacting departments and their labs being some four floors apart.

Zarya struck an intimidating physique with toned muscles and an impressive 6’ 5” height, executed a quick bow in front of the two before turning to Satya, grinning all the while. “Ms. Vaswani, I apologize, but we have guests that request the presence of the Head of Cryogenics.”

Mei giggled into her champagne glass at the act, and Satya questioned how many glasses of champagne both women had had before she replied, attempting to play along with Zarya’s theatrics, “I suppose that I will have to accept your apology and allow you to take Mei-Ling to where she is needed.” The sentence felt awkward coming out of her mouth, but her anxiety dissipated with Zarya and Mei’s answering laughter.

Zarya held out the crook of her arm, grin still in place and eyes sparkling as she waited for Mei’s response. Mei shot Satya a warm smile as she took the offered arm and called, “Take care, Satya!” over her shoulder before she was swallowed up by the crowd.

Satya let loose the tension she hadn’t realized she’d been holding with a short sigh. There was something that came so easily to her about conversing with strangers while working towards a business goal, but evaded her when she was with the people that called her a friend.

On the opposite side of the atrium, large double doors were open to a garden; a breeze allowed through. Satya closed her eyes and breathed deeply, enjoying the touch of the summer wind, heavy with the scent of freshly blooming flowers.

It reminded her of the week she had spent in Japan last April. Her work partner, Hanzo, had been sent with her. They had arrived in the midst of the plum trees blooming season, and though she hadn’t had time to do much of anything between meetings and decompressing in her hotel room, the blocks between her hotel and a quiet café she frequented had been lined with the stunning trees. She could still recall the way the blossoms’ fragrance saturated the air.

Hanzo had offered to take her to one of the quieter, less crowded viewing parties in the area, but they hadn’t had the time in the end. She hoped the partnerships they made in Japan kept; she would jump at any excuse to go back.

The thought of her Japan trip reminded Satya that she had yet to spot Hanzo that evening. It was nearly two hours into the gathering, but then the atrium wasn’t the only place people had been converging. He could easily have been in one of the side rooms or out on the balcony for most of the night… that or possibly trapped in a one-sided conversation by an admirer.

It wasn’t a pleasant aspect of the job, but their natural pull was what made them impressive representatives. She and Hanzo could persuade any type of person to donate just that little bit more, agree to partnership terms that might not be in their favor, or, in the case of one of their recently recruited scientists, work for Overwatch rather than steal information for a competitor.

Satya knew what people thought of her when they met her outside of work — found that the warmth and flirting she’d use to cut deals was just a charade. That otherwise, she was just cold, calculating, critical. Emotionally detached and far too devoted to her job. People thought the same of Hanzo, but that’s why they worked so brilliantly together.

Satya’s attention was drawn from where she had been watching one of their donators regale Fareeha with a story (which, for reasons unknown to Satya, required full-body gestures) by a startling green object appearing in the corner of her vision. Turning her gaze to the doors that were open to the garden, she saw a man with bright green hair — what had grabbed her attention — and next to him was none other than Hanzo Shimada.

Satya had seen Hanzo dress up, daily even. Honestly, his everyday work outfit was more impressive than what some people had shown up to the gala in — well-pressed slacks, unmarred shoes, perfectly tucked button-up, a satin vest, impeccably knotted tie, and an unbelievably soft-looking peacoat.

But for this evening’s gala, he was dressed in traditional Japanese formal attire. A black haori with gold trim was draped along the expanse of his broad shoulders, the sleeves hanging by his sides. His yukata was a bare navy blue, while the obi he wore matched his haori, just the thinnest slivers of gold striped through.

The man with the green hair next to Hanzo was the supervisor for Overwatch’s tech support — that much Satya knew, but she had only talked to him a handful of times and couldn’t recall his name either. She typically opted to take care of her own technical issues. The man was dressed in a yukata and obi identical to Hanzo’s, but he had forgone the haori entirely and had on the same gaudy orange scarf he had been wearing every time Satya had seen him.

The I.T. Supervisor’s hair and scarf conflicted with his regal clothing, making him look a bit childish — as if he was playing dress-up with his father’s clothes.

But Hanzo…

Hanzo looked like he belonged on a throne.

Hanzo’s eyes met hers and Satya fought to squash whatever anxiety was bubbling in her stomach. Across the way, Hanzo nodded his head minutely in greeting, keeping eye contact. Satya returned the gesture awkwardly and thought she spotted a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he held her gaze for a moment longer before turning back to the man next to him. Satya’s heart drummed uncomfortably in her chest, as she watched them make their way into the throng of people, the green hair an easy mark to follow through the crowd until they passed into an adjoining room.

Satya had never been nervous around Hanzo, so she balked at this new, unsettled feeling.

Hanzo had always been unfailingly polite, just the right shade of intimidating to push potential buyers into sealing deals, unflinching in the face of some of Satya’s more… trying compulsions.

And he often shared his imported tea with her.

Hanzo had grown to be one of her closest friends, despite the fact that they rarely met outside of work. She trusted him without question; their partnership strengthened by long hours and traveling together.

Satya ran her fingers along the delicate embroidery of her saree, the feel of the woven threads allowing her to quiet her mind. She worried at this reaction of hers.

She certainly wasn’t afraid of Hanzo, but she couldn’t put a proper cause to the feeling that had washed over her when their eyes had met. Eye contact was something that felt no more intimate to Satya than standing in front of someone in line. Often people ascribed thoughts of trust to elongated eye contact — or discomfort — but she knew trust and the warmth it could spread through her chest.

But, this feeling wasn’t unlike that entirely…

Satya settled on the idea that the feeling had resulted from a combined mess of too much champagne and overstimulation from the evening. She enjoyed Hanzo’s presence and wasn’t fond of this sudden reaction conflicting with the calm he exuded.

And yet, a piece of her strangely wanted to chase that feeling as well.

Satya had been so involved with the feeling of the decorative stitching under her touch and her internal deliberation that she didn’t notice Hanzo’s arrival until he was no more than a few steps to her side.

Hanzo spoke as he settled into place next to her against the wall, “I have not heard Reinhardt this evening; was he not able to attend?”

Satya had inquired about the man’s absence as well, earlier in the evening. “Angela told me that he was injured in some sort of ‘Office Track & Field’ disaster. I am not privy to the specificities of what happened, but I am certain that it was a doomed situation from the beginning.”

Satya watched Hanzo let out a soft chuckle and felt her stomach drop.

_Oh no._

Hanzo stayed by her side the majority of the evening, excusing himself once but returning moments later, bringing another glass of champagne for her as well as himself.

They chatted in quiet voices, and Satya found herself giddy in his presence. Her laughter was high and girly, and she kept finding herself touching her hair or his shoulder. Every time she made him laugh audibly, she felt as though her heart stopped, before picking up a speed at three times its original.

It was _awful_.

It was during Hanzo’s tale of one of his younger brother’s escapades that the green-haired I.T. Supervisor approached them.

“Ah, the brother himself appears,” Hanzo said, a small smile on his face as he motioned to the I.T. Supervisor with an empty glass.

_Oh_ , so that was Genji. Up close, Satya could see the similarities in the brothers’ eyebrows, widow’s peeks, cheekbones, and lips. How could she have missed all those clues?

“How many drinks have you had, brother, that you’ve relegated to telling stories about my adventurous youth?” Genji huffed, crossing his arms, but the way the corner of his mouth twitched betrayed his façade of irritation.

Hanzo glowered. “Only two.”

“Actually,” Satya cut in, “I believe that’s your third,” she said, taking a sip of her own drink.

Hanzo shot her a betrayed look, his haori slipping off his shoulder slightly with the movement.

“Do you want me to take your,” a snicker, “ _shawl_ before you rip it?” Genji asked, eyes catching the motion, hand going to cover his grin.

“I don’t believe he’s nearly far enough gone to rip it,” Satya interjected, her brows furrowed as she tried to imagine Hanzo tripping.

“Oh, did Hanzo not tell you that the one he’s wearing is from his college graduation? And that now his shoulders are too big to fit into it with risking a tear in the seams?” Genji said, not bothering to hide his delight now.

“I’m comfortable, thank you, Genji,” Hanzo said, his voice flat and arms crossed, “I suppose you can find your own ride home?"

Satya hid her amused grin behind her glass, the sibling exchange entertaining as well as enlightening.

Genji rolled his eyes good-naturedly, a smile still on his face, this banter apparently familiar to him. “I actually came over to let you know that Hana, Lùcio and I were going to go to a bar after this, so, _yes_ , Hanzo, I _do_ have my own ride home.”

Hanzo nodded, suddenly changing role from annoyed brother to concerned guardian, saying, “Text me if you’re going to be out after two a.m.,” as Genji turned and headed back into the cluster of guests. Genji waved over his shoulder in acknowledgement at his brother’s request.

Hanzo sighed as he turned to look at Satya. He was silent for a moment, an expression she couldn’t quite place on his features, before he cleared his throat.

“Sorry about him. He’s…” Hanzo let himself drift off, eyes drifting to the side as his eyebrows scrunched together, as if he couldn’t quite find the right word.

“He’s doing what a younger brother ought to do,” Satya said, her amusement heightened from the buzz of alcohol. “Annoy his elder brother.”

Hanzo’s face softened, and he smiled fondly towards where Genji had disappeared. “Yes, I suppose so.”

There was a moment of silence during which Satya felt like Hanzo wanted to say something, but she was never good at reading people in these sort of social settings. After another moment ticked by, she turned her head towards the exit to the garden, suddenly eager to be outside of the stuffy atrium.

“I’m going to look at the flowers, would you care to join me, Hanzo?” she asked, his name like sugar on her tongue. If Hanzo was surprised at her invitation, he didn’t show it, simply taking her glass and setting both of theirs on a nearby decorative table before falling into step next to her.

—

The sun had set, bathing the garden in the blue-white glow of the moon. Small lanterns lit the area directly outside the double doors, orange light flickering inside them.

Satya followed the wall of the bricked building, prosthetic fingers trailing over the coarseness of the masonry. Hanzo walked next to her in silent companionship.

A stone trail that diverted from the path that they were walkng caught Satya’s attention. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she made to follow it, before Hanzo caught her elbow in his grasp.

She had nearly forgotten he was there, and had to blink away the fog of alcohol that suddenly overtook her when she swiveled to look at him.

Hanzo simply raised an eyebrow, his question wordless, but understood.

_Where are you going?_

Satya tilted her head, wondering how she’d been able to understand that silent question — perhaps she wasn’t so bad at reading people? Or perhaps it was just Hanzo she was learning to understand. She pushed aside the though and gestured to the path.

Hanzo followed the motion and when he spotted the path, shot her another quizzical look but released his grip on her.

“We won’t go far; I’m simply curious,” Satya assured, glancing down to make sure the hem of her saree wasn’t dragging on the ground.

Hanzo tucked closer to her as they stepped onto the path and followed its weaving guidance through towering hedges, delicate saplings, and blooming flowers in arrays of colors. The occasional solar lantern lit their way, but otherwise they were at the will of the moon and what light from it fell between the tall hedge walls. The noise of the party quieted to a dull hum in the background, the sound of cicadas and the breeze rustling fauna enveloping them.

Satya wasn’t sure if it was due to the alcohol, but the walk through the garden felt utterly ethereal.

She hadn’t realized when it happened, but sometime during their adventure, Hanzo’s hand had found its way to the small of her back.

It was strange, a touch from other people was often over-stimulating, as suffocating as spending an evening in a populated nightclub, but from him, the touch was soothing, not unlike the embroidery on her saree or the jewelry she wore to work. Satya tucked this revelation away, more interested in the elegant trellis the path had led them to.

It was adorned in periwinkle flowers, and Satya stopped to admire them, trailing her fingers along smooth petals and twirling vines, and smiled as she recalled something similar back in India.

Satya jumped when she felt something brush her temple. Her hand fluttered up to discover a flower that had been tucked behind her ear. She turned to look at Hanzo, who was looking at the trellis with extreme interest with his arms crossed. Satya would have thought she’d imagined the touch, but the flower in her hair and the red flush on the tips of Hanzo’s ears said otherwise.

Growing comfortable with the way her heart was thudding against her ribcage, Satya hummed to herself and turned back to the trellis. Once she found an unblemished flower that suited her tastes, she cut the stem with a sharp twist of it between her fingers. She held the flower carefully in her hand as she stepped in front of Hanzo.

Satya watched Hanzo go rigid as she raised the hand with the flower in it up to his face. She imagined that he was holding his breath, the same way she would react in his place. She laid her prosthetic hand against the exposed skin of his collarbone in order to steady herself as she tucked the stem above his ear.

“Now, we match,” she whispered, the hand she had used to tuck the flower into his hair falling away.

Hanzo’s face was flushed a color Satya had never seen on him before, and a smile tugged its way across his face as she admired the way the delicate blossom looked next to his strong cheekbones.

_Oh._

That’s what that feeling was.

Satya recognized it now; something she thought she had tucked away for good when she had first been hired.

She remembered Hanzo being a haven amongst the cacophony of the new job. He had been quiet, but helpful, never asking probing questions and always giving succinct answers. And, when they worked late into the night writing up plans to solve financial unbalances in the institute, he valued her input. He seemed eager for it, in fact, bringing contracts he’d worked on for her to read over and critique before he’d dare call them complete.

Satya remembered the feeling of sitting next to him in silence after a long day, back when she first started, sipping tea and looking over grant requests until her eyes felt numb. The way her heart would thud against her ribcage when his hands would brush hers. The way her breath would catch in her throat when he’d take down his hair. The way she’d had to bashfully look away when Hanzo had changed his shirt in their office once when he’d had coffee spilled on him.

She hadn’t wanted to risk losing her job, hadn’t wanted to risk making the one person she felt safe around hate her, hadn’t wanted to do anything but focus on her career. So, Satya bent her nose to the grindstone and kept it there, found commonalities with other coworkers until she had a handful of people she called friends, and she brought her work home with her, rather than stay late.

But socializing was still draining, regardless of the combination or number of people she hung out with. She was still anxious and sensitive until the excursions were over, and she was back in the safety of her apartment. Would an outing with Hanzo be draining? Satya couldn’t remember feeling drained by any of the nights they’d stayed late or during the rare occasion they grabbed lunch together.

Satya pushed aside the toil in her mind and dragged the hand resting on his collarbone down until it rested over his sternum, watching his face carefully. The nerves in her prosthetic hand weren't as sensitive as the newer prosthesis, but she could still tell...

_His heart was beating just as erratically as hers_.

Satya had never before wished she could read minds, but now she wondered desperately what Hanzo was thinking. Even more so, when she felt Hanzo’s hand find her waist, his thumb tucking itself between folds of her saree.

_Could he feel the goosebumps that he raised on her skin?_

Satya brought her flesh hand up, but rethought the idea, her hand stalling in mid-air next to Hanzo’s cheek, less than an inch away.

_Would he mind if she touched his face? Would that be a weird thing to ask? Would that be a weird thing to want to do?_

Hanzo made the decision for her, pressing his cheek against her palm. Satya shivered as the stubble on his jawline rubbed against the inside of her wrist.

Hanzo jerked his head up, and Satya worried that she had done something wrong, quickly pulling her hands back into her body, preparing for rejection. Instead, he plucked his haori off his shoulders, and in one smooth movement, draped it along her shoulders, pulling the collar together under her chin.

Satya was about to tell him she wasn’t cold, but was distracted by the flex of his left bicep, now partially exposed. Blues, greens, and yellows twisted up his arm, disappearing under his sleeve. She’d known Hanzo had a tattoo, but now she wondered at how much skin it covered. Satya thought about asking, but decided it may be a question for a different time, and shifted her gaze from his arm back to his eyes.

Going with the instincts that had gotten her this far, Satya braved against the thoughts telling her to stop before it went too far, resting her prosthetic hand back onto his sternum gently. Cautiously, she brought her flesh hand up to cradle Hanzo’s jaw, thumb stroking against the stubble there. She felt his heartbeat skyrocket again under her touch, and she didn’t bother reigning in the smile that took over her face.

One of Hanzo’s hands had moved from where it had been keeping his jacked closed around her neck to the area underneath her intricately pinned hair. His thumb grazed across the sensitive skin beneath her ear.

Satya echoed the movement, the hand on his cheek moving to the back of his neck. Feeling courageous, she dragged him closer. She faltered when her nose touched his, then gathered the last reserves of her bravery, tilted her head and touched her lips against his — keeping it soft, letting him react. There was an agonizing second before she felt the hand still holding the haori closed slide to rest on her lower back, before he angled his head a touch more and pressed back against her.

_This is really happening…_

Hanzo nipped at her bottom lip, and when Satya giggled against his mouth, he pulled her flush against him with the hand on her back, letting out a soft laugh of his own. She apologized for her childishness by running her tongue along his top lip. He kissed her slowly but with fervor, and Satya began to worry at the capabilities of her legs to keep her standing.

She clutched at him with a desperateness she hadn’t expected from herself, moving the hand on his neck up to bury it in his ponytail, scratching her nails against his scalp, then tugging his head back with a handful of his hair (to which he groaned deep in his chest — she felt it against her palm and marveled at how much control she had). After a moment to rest her burning lungs, she dove back in, the hand on his chest wrapping around his neck as she molded herself against him.

The hand at her back was the only thing holding her up when they finally stopped, foreheads pressed together as they caught their breaths.

Hanzo’s thumb brushed behind her ear, causing another shiver Satya couldn’t hide.

“Would you like to go back inside where it’s warm?” he asked her, worry in the furrow of his brows.

“Not particularly,” Satya answered honestly. Hanzo chuckled.

She loved his laugh, the way his eyes closed as the corner of his mouth tilted upwards in amusement. The breathy, playful edge. The way his shoulders curled in.

She wanted to record it and play it on repeat forever.

_Okay, that was definitely weird._

“How much longer do you think we have to stay before we’ve put in our requisite time for this function?” Hanzo asked, a shy curl to his kiss-reddened lips.

“I believe we’ve put in enough overtime to be excused from these sort of functions entirely. Also, I think we’ve been out here long enough for people to assume we’ve left at this point.” Satya answered, amusement lilting in her voice.

“People will talk,” Hanzo said, the smile on his face not faltering.

“They rarely do much else.” Satya countered as she pulled him back for another kiss.

_Perhaps this feeling wasn’t so bad._

**Author's Note:**

> shout out to the all-consuming black hole that is rarepair hell.
> 
> this story is a bit of an introduction to an alternative universe i’ve been fleshing out while i should’ve been doing college work. (don't be like me, kids.)
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](http://auricale.tumblr.com)


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